


Oblitophobia

by neurotrophicfactors



Series: The Fools' Journey [1]
Category: Persona 3, Persona 4, Persona 4 Arena, Persona Q: Shadow of the Labyrinth
Genre: Angst, Canonical Character Death, First Kiss, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 00:08:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11634810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neurotrophicfactors/pseuds/neurotrophicfactors
Summary: “What do you think Elizabeth meant when she said that ‘those with the power of the Wild Card are drawn to each other?’”In the labyrinth it meant that Souji wanted to be near Minato, and that Minato was at peace by his side. Outside of the labyrinth it meant that Souji had made a promise to a dead boy he couldn't remember.





	1. Bloom

**Author's Note:**

> Started out with fluff and ended with me exploring what happens after PQ.

It isn’t difficult to elect Seta Souji as the leader of their coalition. Even going beyond the practical reasons (his team was the first to meet Zen and Rei and navigate the labyrinth, this pocket dimension is modeled after his school, Minato has no desire to lead SEES let alone an additional group of Persona users), he simply looks like a leader. Tall, with strong hands and a straight back. Kind eyes. He’s confident in the elusive manner of someone who has found their niche in an unexpected place. His team flocks to him and it’s easy to see that they adore him. He’s the glue that holds their group together. Minato doubts his leadership has ever been questioned.

And yet…

Minato turns his head toward the boy next to him and finds Souji already watching him with a curious expression. When their eyes meet, those lips quirk into a small smile—not exactly a timid one, but less certain than the smile he shares with his teammates. His _friends_. It’s polite, and Minato isn’t sure how to respond to it, so he turns back to the takoyaki eating contest that appears to be occurring between Akihiko, Shinjiro, and the tomboyish girl from Souji’s team, Chie. He can’t help but think of Mamoru in Iwatodai, and he wonders how the athlete would have fared against the trio.  

A voice murmurs too close to his ear, “Are you hungry?”

He doesn’t jump, but Minato goes very still as he becomes hyperaware of how close Souji is to him, his silver head tilted downward to speak to him in a soft voice—always so attentive. How he managed to insert himself squarely inside of Minato’s personal space without notice is a mystery. An _uncomfortable_ mystery that Minato doesn’t want to think about too hard.

Minato licks his lips—finds them chapped—and says, “Not really.” It's a lie.

Souji hums thoughtfully, leaning away, and Minato finally lets out the breath he’s been holding. He doesn’t watch Souji’s departure, but he feels the absence at his side as keenly as if they had been touching, warmth fading and leaving a slight chill in its wake. Elizabeth catches his eye and smirks knowingly, and Minato feels a flicker of annoyance, there and gone again like a muscle spasm. Souji returns a minute later, their elbows brushing through their jackets as he holds out a box of takoyaki.

“Want some?” Souji asks.

Minato blinks at him. “I wasn’t hungry.”

“I was,” Souji says. “I just thought I’d share.”

Minato finds a piece of dry skin on his lower lip and tugs at it with his teeth. The takoyaki looks good… He can see the sauce soaking into the dough balls and the bonito flakes are spread evenly across them. There are two toothpicks for picking them up, and now that Souji has been standing next to him for longer than five seconds, the smell of deep-fried dough and octopus is wafting over seductively.

Fuck it; he’s weak.

“Thank you.” Minato takes the skewered takoyaki ball closest to him and immediately burns the roof of his mouth as he bites it in half. The smile Souji gives him is a new one, closed-mouthed, but bright and warm. Too bright—Minato has to look away. He stays for the takoyaki though, even if the other leader’s arm keeps brushing his whenever one of them moves.

 

 

“Hey, are you alright there?”

Minato opens his eyes to find Souji bent over him, the light catching his hair and making it shine like a knight’s helm.

“Yeah,” Minato says. He found an empty classroom after they came back from the Group Date Café for a break, and he’s now laying across three chairs pushed together with his head pillowed on his jacket. His headphones are covering his ears and music is playing over them quietly. He had been so close to falling asleep.

“Are you ill?” Before Minato can stop him, Souji lays the back of his hand across Minato’s forehead.

Minato immediately swats the hand away. “I’m just tired.”

They fall into a silence. Souji is still leaning over him, his hand now resting on the back of one of the chairs. Minato wants to close his eyes, but he can’t with the way that Souji’s are roving over his face, mapping his features with the same intensity he used to map out the labyrinth. Above them, one of the fluorescent lights flickers. After a while, Souji says, “Huh.”

Minato frowns; a nonverbal prompt.

“I’ve just never seen your entire face before.”

Minato props himself up on his elbow and shakes his head until his bangs fall over his right eye, then he turns over onto his left side to face the back of the chairs. Souji laughs, soft and almost musical.

“You’re weird,” Minato mumbles.

“Is this how you make friends back home?”

“ _No_.” Minato shifts; he didn’t realize how uncomfortable these chairs were until their edges were digging into his ribs and thighs. “Do you make friends by telling people you’re going to eat them whole?”

“Only the ones with a literal host of demons in their head.”

A puff of air pushes past Minato’s lips—almost a laugh, but not quite. Souji’s arm falls away from the back of the chair and he disappears from the corner of Minato’s vision. At first he thinks that the other boy is leaving, but then he hears one of Souji’s knees crack next to him. A moment later, Souji sighs and then Minato feels the gentle pressure of Souji’s head against the middle of his back, warm and all too deliberate.  

Minato’s breath catches and he stares hard at the wooden back of the chair, following the grain with his eyes. After several seconds he recovers and says, “The others will miss you.”

“They’ll miss you too.”

“Not really.”

“They’re your friends.”

Minato doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. They both know that their teams are fundamentally different. There’s a thin veneer of professionalism between the members of SEES, creating the image of efficiency but serving as a barrier all the same. They were founded by the Chairman and moreover the Kirijo Group. The Investigation Team is just a bunch of friends working together toward a common goal. That goal is catching a murderer, but still… They are a group of self-motivated volunteers, not recruits who were scouted for their potential.

Souji turns his head and Minato thinks he feels the edge of a cheekbone. “I wasn’t supposed to get close to anyone,” Souji says quietly. “I’m leaving in less than a year.”

Minato closes his eyes and breathes slowly, in and out. He gets it. Rotating from household to household as his family members pass him along like an unwanted heirloom they can’t bring themselves to sell. An obligation, not a person. There was never any point in trying to make friends; everything was ephemeral. He wonders, for a moment, at the cruel irony that two self-isolationists would be chosen to hold the power of the Wild Card: a power that requires social bonds to grow. Fate certainly has a sense of humour.

It seems Souji is following a similar vein of thought as he asks, “What do you think Elizabeth meant when she said that ‘those with the power of the Wild Card are drawn to each other?’”

It meant that in battle Souji was attuned to him, always glancing at him between strikes at the enemy to gauge his status, and Minato was always watching to catch him in the act. It meant that nothing could ambush Souji from behind because Minato was already cutting it down before it could loose a single spell. It meant that Souji could insert himself into Minato’s personal space without causing alarm, and without Minato feeling like his skin was about to burst at the seams to allow a swift escape. It meant that Minato wasn’t pushing Souji away now.

It’s a lot. Too much, and Minato is glad that they can’t see each other’s faces. He mumbles, “I don’t know,” and Souji hums at his answer. He thinks Souji heard the rest of it anyway.

 

 

Perhaps it should have been a surprise that Minato was deemed Souji’s destined partner at the end of the Group Date Café. It was certainly surprising for their teammates. But between the way the Velvet siblings waxed poetic about their meeting and the immediate comfort they found with each other, to Minato it just seems par for the course. Standing alone in a meadow with their hands stuck together isn’t exactly what he had in mind, but more for practical reasons than any kind of moral objection to the idea. After all, they are still in the labyrinth.

“I wonder if we’ll run into any Shadows.” Minato surveys the area around them, but all he can see is grass, wildflowers, and the path ahead of them through heart-shaped arches. There is something very uncanny about being in a place that looks like it’s out of doors and knowing that it’s located at the bottom of a pit. The meadow is still, not even an artificial breeze to rustle the vegetation. It’s eerie.

Souji laces their fingers together and gives Minato’s hand a squeeze. When Minato turns to him, he finds the other boy looking back with determination, eyes like blades of honed steel. “If we do, I’ll protect you,” he says.

Something about Souji’s seriousness and the entire situation strikes a humorous chord and Minato snorts loudly, his free hand immediately flying up to cover his mouth. Souji blinks in astonishment, tilting his head to look at Minato curiously.

“Wow,” Minato says, shaking his head, “I’m impressed you can easily let loose with a line like that. ’ _If we do, I’ll protect you_.’”

Souji is just staring at him with an unreadable expression.

Minato feels his face grow hot and ducks until his bangs form a curtain in front of him. “How was my impression of you?” When Souji still says nothing, Minato twists away to look down the path ahead of them. “Eh, it doesn’t matter right now. We have to keep going, so let’s go.”

He starts walking and tugs Souji along with him. In the corner of his eye he can see Souji pressing his lips together, the edges lifting in a suppressed grin.

Souji leans in suddenly, too close too fast, and says, “You’re funny when you’re flustered.”

Minato shoulder-checks him out of his personal space. “I’m not flustered. Shut up.”

Souji just laughs, swinging their hands together.

 

 

They go back to the classroom where Minato tried to nap before, weary and sore, but smiling. They’re seated on the windowsill with their feet propped on chairs in front of them and Minato’s shoulder pressed against Souji’s upper arm, warm and solid. Fighting Margaret at his side was exhilarating like nothing Minato has ever experienced. Physically, he’s exhausted, but energy courses through him like a livewire; adrenaline or the excitement of his reborn Persona singing from within. From the way Souji keeps grinning at him, he feels the same: giddy and alive.

“Messiah,” Souji says after a while. He sounds almost _reverent_. A shiver runs through Minato at the sound of his Persona’s name on another’s lips. It feels intimate, like fingertips grazing against the edge of his soul. Souji turns toward him and the late morning sun cuts a sharp line of relief across his cheek, throwing his features into silver and gold. Minato can’t look away. “He suits you.”

Minato’s mouth has gone dry and his heart has migrated into his throat. He swallows, but his voice still sounds hoarse as he says, “You think so?”

“I do.” Souji doesn’t elaborate further, but there’s something like pride in his eyes. It’s thrilling. It’s terrifying.

Minato licks his lips. “Izanagi-no-Okami.”

He hears the hitch in Souji’s breath, sees his eyes widen slightly. He feels it too. “What about him?”

“He’s beautiful.”

Souji’s expression is raw. Cracked open and pulled apart, but unharmed—just exposed. His hand scrambles to cover Minato’s between them, like he can’t stand not to be touching him. Minato turns his hand over and laces their fingers together, squeezing hard, and a sigh falls from Souji’s lips.

“I don’t want to forget you,” Souji says.

And there it is: the thing no one wants to talk about. It has hovered at the fringes of conversation ever since they found out that SEES came from the year 2009 while, for the Investigation Team, it’s 2011. They’ve known each other for roughly the equivalent of a few days, but already they have grown together and forged a sense of kinship between their groups. The fact that this is the Investigation Team’s first time meeting them then…

Minato traces the shape of Souji’s thumbnail with the pad of his. Souji’s hands are larger than his—everything about him is bigger than Minato—but not comically so.

“When I was six years old,” Minato tells him, “I watched my parents die. There was a car accident and I survived, but I wasn’t the same. Any illusion that life is lasting or indestructible was completely shattered. Ever since, I’ve been painfully aware of just how fragile we all are. I actually didn’t mind that I moved between my relatives a lot; the less time I spent in any one place, the less likely I was to grow attached. You can’t get left behind if you don’t have anyone. It’s weird and irrational but… I don’t know. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

Souji reverses the position of their thumbs, now drawing slow circles around Minato’s knuckle. “I’ve never been close to my parents. They’ve always been… ambitious. Both for themselves and for me. When I was a kid I always had babysitters and as soon as I was old enough to boil water by myself...” He shrugs. “We moved a lot for their work and I always made friends when I was little, but eventually I just got tired. I was always saying goodbye and I don’t think it even occurred to my parents to care about what I was going through every time we packed up to leave for a different city. They didn’t ask when I stopped inviting friends over. I doubt they even noticed. As long as I was well-behaved and got good grades, I was the perfect son.”

Not a son, a _trophy_. Minato seethes internally. What a fucking waste. He grips Souji’s hand tighter. “They don’t know what they’re missing.”

Souji must hear the anger in his tone because he looks over, surprised. Quietly, he says, “Thank you.”

Minato closes his eyes and tips his head back until it kisses against the windowpane, the sun soaking into his dark hair and heating his scalp. A minute later, Souji’s arm presses into him more firmly, and then Minato feels Souji’s cheek on his head. Wordlessly, Minato places one of his headphones on the ear furthest away from Souji and hands the other one to his companion. Once Souji has raised it to his own ear, Minato resumes the song on his MP3 player, soft music washing over both of them. The restless buzz from their spar with Margaret has faded entirely, leaving only peace in its wake. Minato could stay this way for hours.

 

 

The Velvet Room doors are open and their teams have exited safely, back to their respective times and locations. Now only Souji and Minato remain with the Velvet siblings, standing across from one another with twin expressions of sadness and fondness in a room cloaked in blue. 

“So I guess this is it,” Souji says.

“Yeah.” Minato stuffs his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

Souji nods to himself, but then a spark alights in his eye. Smirking, he says, “Hey, Minato! Now that it’s all over, what do you think Elizabeth meant when she said that the Wild Cards are drawn to each other?”

Minato shakes his head. On a cosmic level? He has no clue. But right here and now it means that he’s saying, “I don’t care,” and stepping into Souji’s space, throwing his arms around the taller boy’s shoulders. Souji’s arms wrap around his waist and draw him in until they’re pressed together all along their fronts, Minato’s face tucked into his neck. Minato sighs, his eyes closed, and he feels more warm and whole than he can remember since he was a child. He never knew that he could feel so safe.

One of Souji’s hands comes up to cradle the back of his head, fingers combing through his hair, and when Minato lifts his face, Souji leans down to meet him. His lips are just as soft as they looked and so, so gentle that it aches.

Without parting, Souji whispers, “I like you _so much_ …”

The way he can feel the shape of Souji’s words against his mouth makes Minato’s head spin and he can’t help but kiss Souji again before replying, “I like you too.”

For a long minute they simply hold each other, reveling in the sensation of it. Minato doesn’t want to leave and lose this. It’s unfair and he _hates_ it.

Souji ducks his head until his mouth nudges Minato’s temple. “As soon as I can, I promise I’ll come find you.”

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” Minato replies.

“I’m not. I’ll find you, okay?”

Minato meets his eyes and finds them filled with fire. “Okay. I’ll hold you to it.”

They seal it with one last kiss.


	2. Lethe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How do you mourn someone you can't even remember?

For all intents and purposes, it’s just a normal sheet of lined paper. The edges are ragged on one side, like it was torn out of a notebook, and Souji can faintly see the dark lines of printed kanji on the other side of the folded letter. It doesn’t feel magic or special and it seems less out of place in his hands than it looked in Margaret’s when she handed it to him this morning.

Everything about the delivery was strange, from the tense corners of Margaret’s mouth as she told him that she had a letter for him to the way her fingers pinched onto it just a little too long when Souji stepped forward to take it from her. It wasn’t even in an envelope; just folded twice and tucked inside the pocket of her coat.

Souji had frowned, running his thumb back and forth along the smooth grain. “How long have you been holding onto this?” he asked.

“Just over four months,” she replied. “I was asked to wait until the conclusion of your journey before giving it to you.”

“Why?”

“The sender did not wish to distract you from your investigation.” She’d glanced away then, only briefly, but Souji could see that she was uncomfortable with the topic.

“What does it say?”

“It was not my letter to read.”

Fair enough. Feeling at a loss, Souji said, “Can you at least tell me who the sender was?”

And here was the most curious part of all: Margaret’s eyes softened and her voice was almost tender as she said, “A friend.”

Now Souji is sitting in his bedroom in his parents’ apartment and the clock is ticking ever closer to midnight. His mother and father retired to their bedroom just over an hour ago—likely they’ve been fast asleep for a while. Souji excused himself from their company shortly after the three of them returned home from the restaurant where they ate dinner; ostensibly to celebrate their reunion. Souji thought about reading the letter on the train back to the city, but it felt too public, like everyone would be able to read it then. All day, Souji has been nervously putting it off; the way Margaret behaved this morning has set him on edge.

He’s seated at his desk, the lamp light illuminating the wooden surface and the piece of paper in his hands. Like he did this morning, Souji smooths the paper with his thumb. He takes a breath, holds it, and slips his fingers between the folded edges to open the letter.

 

‘ _Souji_

‘ _I’m writing this letter as a failsafe. If you remember me then this is redundant. If you don’t, then I won’t remember you either. Our teams met when we were trapped in a sort of pocket dimension. This will sound stupid if you don’t remember anything, but it all comes down to Persona and the Velvet Room. That much at least should make sense._

‘ _I’m another Wild Card. My team was trapped in that dimension from the year 2009, so I guess in a way I’m writing to you from the past. From the sounds of it, our Shadow troubles are unrelated so I can only assume that means my team was successful in our cause. I know that you will succeed too. You’re stronger than I am._

‘ _I gave this letter to Margaret before leaving the pocket dimension and asked her to give it to you once you solve your murder case. I’m in Iwatodai in 2009, but I don’t know where I’ll be in 2+ years so I didn’t want to burden you while lives are still at stake._

‘ _I don’t expect things between us to be the same when we meet again, but you made a promise to me, so here’s me holding you to it. Just like I said I would._

‘ _Come find me, Souji._

‘ _\- Arisato Minato_ ’

 

Souji breathes in and out slowly. No honorifics—between that and some of the writer’s phrasing, Souji’s cheeks are burning. Arisato Minato. The name is unfamiliar to him, but there’s a tight feeling in his chest. There’s no image he can draw up in his mind or voice he can hear as he reads over the words a second time; no indication that there has ever been an Arisato Minato in his life, and yet he knows that this person is important. He can see it in the black ink scrawled across the page before him, feel it in the rapid beating of his heart as Izanagi-no-Okami stirs with interest.

Iwatodai. Souji’s class went to Iwatodai and toured Gekkoukan High School. Assuming he and Minato were the same age when they met in this pocket dimension the letter mentioned, Minato would have graduated by now. He could be anywhere.

Souji licks his lips as he opens his laptop and boots it up. If luck is on his side, he can find a social media profile for Arisato Minato and contact him through that. What will he even say? He supposes he could take a picture of the letter and send that, or just mention that he’s a Persona user. At the very least that will get them talking. Souji doesn’t know what he promised Minato, but he can only assume that this is how he can start fulfilling it.

He opens up a web browser and types in Minato’s full name. Pauses with his finger over the ‘enter’ key, heart pounding. He takes a deep breath, presses the key, and chews his lip as the results load.

Wait.

No. This can’t be right.

The first result is an article about a memorial tree that was planted at Gekkoukan High School at the prompting of an elderly couple named Kitamura Bunkichi and Mitsuko.

The second result is an obituary.

Covering his mouth with his left hand, Souji clicks on the obituary. It says that Arisato Minato, aged seventeen years, slipped into a coma on March fifth, 2010, and passed away the following afternoon while in hospital care due to acute exhaustion. There’s a picture of a teenager with unkempt blue hair and eyes the colour of a storm, the right one mostly hidden behind overgrown bangs. He’s wearing a miniscule smile in the photograph, like his mouth is unused to the shape of it, but it’s genuine. He’s dressed in a Gekkoukan uniform with a pair of clip-on headphones hanging around his neck.

Part of Souji wants to check the characters in the letter, make sure he didn’t type in the name incorrectly, but he already knows. This is him. There’s no spark of recognition, no memories that spring to mind, nothing; but it’s him.

Souji startles with a gasp as something warm and wet touches his hand. Oh—he’s crying. He laughs weakly at the ridiculousness of it all and covers his face with his hands. He doesn’t even know who this boy is, but he can’t stop crying. His shoulders shake with it and his tears come steadily with no signs of stopping.

Something swells within him then—Izanagi-no-Okami. It brings not a memory or image, but a name.

_Messiah._

Souji screams.

 

 

With the truth unveiled and humanity safe, Souji did not think he would see the Velvet Room again. But here he is, opening his eyes to find himself sitting in the back of that blue limousine with Margaret seated across from him, her hands folded neatly in her lap as she regards him calmly. Igor is strangely absent from the vehicle, making it seem bigger and emptier.

Souji glares into Margaret’s golden eyes and says, “Why didn’t you tell me he’s dead?”

“What would it have changed?” Margaret asks. “In truth, part of me did not want to give you the letter at all.”

“Why?”

“Because I knew that it would only cause you heartache,” she says.

Souji slams his fist on the seat next to him. “I can’t even remember a thing about him! I don’t know how we met or what he was like. He’s a total stranger to me!”

“But your soul recognizes him, does it not?”

Souji thinks of the way his Persona came to life inside of him as he read Minato’s letter, and the way it seemed to cry out when he learned that the other Wild Card is dead. “Izanagi-no-Okami responded to him… in a way.”

Margaret’s gaze gentles. “That is why I wished to spare you the pain. You could have lived out the rest of your life, never knowing. As far as your reality is concerned, your meeting never occurred.”

“Damn my reality,” Souji spits. “Minato said that the pocket dimension had to do with the Velvet Room; I want my memories back!”

“Why are you so desperate for their return?”

“It feels… _wrong_.” It isn’t something clear cut like missing time; because it occurred in a separate reality, the memory loss is seamless. But here’s this letter and a promise Souji made to a dead boy and it’s not fair. “We clearly meant something to each other and I don’t even remember him. It’s not right. He deserves better than to be erased.”

The look Margaret gives Souji is almost pitying, and he hates it. “In that case, I wish I could help you. It was not I who took your memories, nor my master. Even my own understanding of the situation is limited.”

Souji lets out a puff of air, leaning over with his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together in front of him. The dark blue of the limousine’s rug reminds him of Minato’s hair in the photos of him online. Souji closes his eyes and chews on the inside of his lip. “Can you at least tell me how he really died?”

Souji raises his head to find Margaret’s bowed solemnly. She tells him, “He used the power of the Universe Arcana to become a seal, acting as a barrier between the twisted embodiment of humanity’s grief and she who would grant them their doom. All life would have come to an end.”

“Messiah,” he whispers.

If Margaret is surprised, she does not show it. “Yes. Much like Izanagi-no-Okami was born from your resolve and the strength of your bonds, so was Messiah for our last Wild Card. He truly was an exceptional guest.”

“So he’s the one you mentioned before,” Souji says. “The one your sister left to save.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think she’ll succeed?”

Margaret looks away. “I don’t know, but I sincerely hope so, so long as the cost is not too great.”

 

 

The first match sputters and dies the moment it catches, blackening the head and rendering it useless. Souji curses and drops it before he picks up a second match and drags it across the ignition strip. This time he cups his hand around the small flame to guard it from the wind as he brings it to the end of the incense stick he bought, already placed in its brand new holder. Souji should have just bought a lighter, but he didn’t want the store owner to think he smoked—it was stupid.

The incense catches and fragrant smoke curls into the air. Souji blows out the match and tucks it into the matchbook upside down before he stuffs it into the pocket of his jacket and places the incense in front of the grave. Then he shifts onto his knees and presses his palms together, glancing at the three names engraved on the headstone uncertainly.

Minato was buried with his parents. Souji didn’t know that he was an orphan—or maybe he did once. Souji has never lost anyone before. There was Nanako, almost, but it was never a reality he had to face. When Morooka was killed last year, it had been disturbing and tragic, but he was Souji’s homeroom teacher; not anyone he was close to. Souji doesn’t really know what to do or why he even came here.

As far as Souji’s parents are concerned, he picked a weekend and came to Iwatodai to look at universities in the area. They were happy enough to pay for the tickets for his round-trip so long as Souji had completed his homework, so here he was. Later he would actually stop by a school or two to pick up some pamphlets for show, but university was the last thing on Souji’s mind when he decided to visit the nearby city.

Souji sighs. Chews his lip. Glances at the characters of Minato’s name carved into the stone. Sniffs. Usually when people visit a grave, they pray and speak to the deceased. But usually when people visit a grave, the deceased in question isn’t guarding humanity with their soul. Is any part of Minato even aware of him?

Souji takes a deep breath and when he speaks, his voice starts out shaky, “I don’t know if you can hear me, and if you can, I don’t know if you’ll even remember who I am. Margaret said you used the Universe Arcana—maybe that was powerful enough to negate whatever took our memories from us. If not, uh, I guess this is as weird for you as it is for me. I don’t remember anything either. I just got this letter from Margaret a couple weeks ago about how our teams worked together in some pocket dimension. I’m sorry, I don’t know anything more than that. That’s all you wrote: that, and something about a promise I made. I don’t remember what I promised you either, so I’m sorry for that too.”

Souji tips his head back and exhales. It’s a chilly morning for April, but not cold enough to make his breath visible. Aside from Souji and a few birds, the cemetery is deserted. In the distance, he hears a crow cawing.

“I don’t remember you, but my Persona does. Kind of. He told me the name of your Persona, Messiah. It’s pretty perfect, all things considered. If it weren’t for you, everyone would have died two years ago—that’s what Margaret told me.”

He frowns, eyes falling to the stick of incense. It’s half-burned by now. “You told me to come find you, in your letter. I think we were close. It sounds like we were close. I think…” He pauses. Bites his lip. “Something about the way you wrote that letter; I think you were my first love—or at least the closest thing I’ve had to a love. Um.” Souji covers his face with his hands as he breathes through the embarrassment. “I’m sorry. I hate that I don’t remember anything. It makes me feel so guilty and… _mad_. It’s not fair to either of us. Whatever we were, you were important to me. Important enough that I made some stupid promise I don’t even have the decency to remember.” He scrubs his face angrily with his palms.

“It’s kind of weird, but I looked you up online,” Souji says. “After I found out you were dead, I mean. I wanted to know about you. I found a video of your kendo competition in 2009… You were really good.” Nope, he can’t do this. Souji holds his head in his hands. “God, I’m sorry, this is so fucking awkward. I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know anything about you. I found this entire social media page that was created by people who knew you and loved you, as like a memorial, and it’s filled with comments and pictures from your classmates and social links. I read through a lot of it, but it just felt fucking weird. It’s not a substitute for talking to a person and getting to know them. I’m sorry, it was weird. I didn’t know what to do.”

Silence and birds answer him. Souji looks down at the incense; the glowing ember is guttering out as it reaches the end of the flammable material. Souji whispers, “I’m sorry.”

 

 

There was a time when Souji didn’t believe in fate. Back then he’d had no reason to; his was a mundane and lonely existence. Then he came to Inaba and he found out about the Midnight Channel and Persona. He had friends and a purpose. But even then, a part of him believed that that was the extent of it: solve the mystery, save the world, go back to his normal life in the city.

Now he’s leaning heavily on Yosuke, aching all over, and a young woman with a blue dress and a pixie bob-cut is standing before him with a brilliant smile on her face as his friends crowd around him.

“Shit, partner, she really did a number on you,” Yosuke says.

“I’m fine,” Souji assures him.

Yukiko places her hands on his shoulder and carefully starts patting her way down his arm. “Where does it hurt? I can cast Diarahan…”

“Seriously, I’m fine!”

Over the din of their fussing, Souji hears Chie shout, “Huh?! Wait a sec, you haven’t explained yourself yet! You haven’t even told us your name!”

Peering around Yukiko, Souji sees the woman in blue stop at the front doors to the school and exclaim, “It’s Elizabeth!” And with that, she throws open the doors and steps outside.

 _Shit_. Souji lurches forward and Yosuke places a hand on his chest.

“Woah! Easy there, Souji. You need to rest,” he says.

Souji shakes his head. “No, you don’t understand! I have to talk to her!”

“Huh? Senpai, what are you talking about? You’re really hurt!” Rise places a hand on his arm.

It’s too much. Souji loves his friends, but this could be his only chance; he _can’t_ let Elizabeth get away. With a pre-emptive, “Sorry,” Souji tugs himself free from Yosuke’s hold and shoulders past his friends.

Behind him, Rise cries, “Senpai, _wait!_ ” but he’s already crossing the foyer and reaching for the front doors. With a hard shove, he pushes them open and finds himself blinking in the bright sunlight as his eyes adjust to the change. It looks just like Yasogami High School during the day, only the lack of wind betraying the artificiality of it. Elizabeth is standing alone by the front gates and opening the Compendium in her hand.

With his heart in his throat, Souji runs toward her. “Wait! Elizabeth, wait!”

Elizabeth pauses and turns toward him, eyebrows raised. She rocks back and forth on her feet, once again making herself look strangely young, and says, “While your determination is admirable, there is no need to further prove yourself. I have obtained all the information I—”

“I want to help you!” Souji blurts out.

“You have already been very helpful. Now if you’ll excuse me, I—”

“I know about Minato!”

Elizabeth becomes very still then, and all at once she goes from looking almost childlike to something timeless, and Souji is reminded once again of the fact that she is not human. Slowly, she cocks her head and she says to him, “What do you know of my former guest?”

“I…” Souji freezes. What does he even say? He chews his lip as he gathers his words into something that almost makes sense. “I know that he sacrificed himself and that you’re trying to save him. I met him once, and I think I met Aigis and the rest of their team too, but I don’t remember any of it. I just know that he was important to me, and that I made a promise to him.”

“If you cannot remember your meeting, then how do you know of your promise?”

It’s more than a lack of wind. Now that the blood isn’t rushing in Souji’s ears, he realizes that aside from Elizabeth and himself, there’s not a sound to be heard. No birds singing in the trees or cars in the distance. Like a ghost town, void of life.

“He… left a letter for me with your sister.” For some reason it’s embarrassing to say, and Souji can feel himself blush.

Elizabeth regards him for a long moment and then drops her gaze, smiling in a way that seems almost smug, as if she's won a bet with herself. “I wonder if even he understood the power he had over people. The way he draws them in…” Her golden eyes meet Souji’s again. “Even if I succeed, he will not live again. At least, not as you do. The dead cannot return to life.”

Souji nods. “Maybe not, but if I can’t keep my promise to him then the least I can do is help grant him some peace.”

“Are you willing to fight for him?”

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation or doubt in Souji’s mind. Izanagi-no-Okami sings in his heart.

A wide smile creeps across Elizabeth’s mouth. “Very well then. If I find myself requiring assistance, I shall come find you.” She opens her Compendium and bows in a single graceful movement. “Until next time.”

And with a flash of light, Elizabeth is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The graveyard scene was definitely my favourite to write. The last chapter is a weird kind of epilogue.


	3. Into the Asphodel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

Souji isn’t sure what prompts him to open his eyes, but when he does, he finds himself in a stationary elevator draped in blue. _Draped_ feels like the most appropriate word, as it hangs from the doors that lead to nowhere and the circular table in front of him. Pads the walls on either side of him and spills across the carpeted floor. The wall opposite him is not in fact a wall, but ornate iron gating with a massive golden clock mounted high above him, glinting beneath the ceiling lights.

It’s a Velvet room—of that he’s certain, but it is not _his_ Velvet room.

All at once Souji becomes aware of the room’s sole other occupant, who is seated on the plush loveseat across the table from him. The boy lifts his head and meets Souji’s gaze with a single stormy eye—his right one hidden beneath long, midnight blue bangs. He’s dressed in a Gekkoukan school uniform and when Souji’s breath catches in his throat, the boy’s eyes soften and his lips spread into a fond smile.

Souji’s heart is in his throat. He chokes out, “ _Minato_.”

With a delicate nod, Minato raises himself from his seat and circles the table to stand in front of Souji, who remains frozen in his chair. Minato’s hands come forward, reaching for his face, and Souji closes his eyes moments before they touch his skin. It starts with fingertips tracing his cheekbones from back to front, and from there, trailing down to the corners of Souji’s lips. They move back again, pinkies stroking along his jaw, and then Minato’s palms are flat against his cheeks, thumbs brushing just beneath his eyes.

It feels so real. Souji can feel the bumps of calluses on Minato’s right hand, like the ones he developed after months of fighting with a sword. Minato’s skin is soft and slightly cool to the touch, but growing warmer. And he’s so gentle that it hurts. Souji doesn’t know how much time they spent together—certainly not long enough for what they had to grow into love—but he _feels_ loved. It’s intoxicating, reminds him of the time he visited Club Escapade with the Investigation Team and they thought they were drunk; the placebo effect taking hold.

Souji whispers, “I don’t remember you,” but he turns his head to kiss Minato’s palm, breathing in the salt of his skin.

Minato’s hands slide back until his long fingers are threading through Souji’s hair, and then he’s stepping closer, bringing the scent of sandalwood and citrus and, faintly, clean sweat. Souji’s hands twitch with the need to touch—to hold Minato’s thin wrists or rest on his hips—but he keeps them still for fear that reaching out will cause Minato to disappear.

He shudders on his next exhale and feels Minato’s breath against his hair before lips touch his forehead.

Souji opens his eyes abruptly to find himself lying beneath a tree on the Samegawa floodplain, where he dozed off. The sensation of something touching his forehead has not faded, so he reaches up with a tentative hand. A butterfly with blue wings flits away playfully.

“Hey, partner, wanna cut in?” Yosuke calls to him, one foot propped on the soccer ball he’s been kicking around with their friends.

The summer heat is tempered with a mild breeze that tickles the hairs on Souji’s arms. Though there are hours to go before darkness falls, the sun has begun its descent in the sky and has cast a golden glow on the sleepy town of Inaba. There’s a weight in Souji’s pocket that wasn’t there before.

_What do you think Elizabeth meant when she said that ‘those with the power of the Wild Card are drawn to each other?’_

Souji doesn’t know when he said those words, but he knows that they’re his. And whatever it meant before, now it means that Souji has someone else to fight for.

“You keep going,” Souji tells Yosuke. “There’s something I need to check up on. I’ll catch you later?”

Yosuke looks confused, but he waves good-naturedly. “Yeah! Sure thing, partner! See you later.”

Souji climbs to his feet and returns to the path to the main road, heading toward the central shopping district. He makes himself walk despite the racing of his heart, and when his friends are out of sight he reaches into his pocket. His hand emerges holding an opulent blue key and a piece of paper.

Written in English with navy ink, the note says, ‘ _You offered me your assistance. I hope that you are ready._ ’

Izanagi-no-Okami flares to life inside his chest like an unfurling fern. Souji is ready for anything. He grips the key tightly in his fist and breaks into a run, lips splitting into a wide grin.

He has a promise to keep.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not really sure what this was, tbh, but I had fun writing it. Hope you also had fun reading it! Thank you so much


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